Human Inventions
by Tetractys
Summary: The engagement between subject and environment is key to survival. An inquisitive Smoker grows to understand this through the most amusing of circumstances. Hunter/Smoker
1. Doorknobs

This would be my first try at Left 4 Dead. I didn't really plan this out, so we'll just have to wait and see where things go. For the most part, this story will have cognizant Special Infected. However, the Smoker is more or less capable of re-learning his life as a human, which includes the common devices used then. It's a first-person and will not have full-blown 'sessions' between the Hunter and Smoker. Their relationship will be more of an awkward partnership that slowly builds over time. There will **not** be graphic sex.

Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead, its characters, and its concepts.

Warnings: Language, violence, gore, homosexuality.

* * *

><p><em>Human Inventions of Varying Usefulness<em>

Chapter 1 "Doorknobs"

With a twitch stuck in the back of my throat, my body quickly shivers with terrible, heaving coughs. I could feel that all too familiar burn work its way down, blooming up through my withered lungs. Damn but did it hurt.

"Smoker!"

I narrow my eye. That's all I ever hear nowadays besides my coughing. It's stupid and annoying. I _do_ have a name. Or at least I did. All I can remember now is this gnawing feeling of always being hungry. Searching around the beaten trail, I traipse through a few bushes and land hard on my knees when I skid across some ice. I cough again.

"Where is the damn thing?" someone yells.

"I can't see through the thicket. It's gettin' too dark out," another one says.

A blaze of sound echoes through the wintry forest, they're shooting with those things again. It's so loud I can barely stand it. A few others fall down, riddled with holes and stuff comes out.

_Blood. It's called blood._

Oh, right. I have it in me. If I have it, then those noisy people have it in them, too. I would smile at realizing this, but my mouth protests. It's weird. Some of the others don't have this thing in my mouth; they just look…normal, I think. We're both messed up, but they don't have what I have.

I open my mouth with a gurgling surge rushing from deep inside, and it shoots out like it has a mind of its own. Rippling through the cold night air, it latches onto one of the noisy ones and they start screaming louder, calling for help.

My vision is pretty bad, so I always have to be careful. I don't want them to make my blood come out either. But my hunger is too great, and I start pulling back, dragging the other towards me.

"He-help! It's got me!" it shouts.

I'm getting tired and my eye droops with sleep. The person just got caught in between a pair of trees, and I can't get it free. Before I can blink, something hurts along my…_tongue_…tongue, that's right. My tongue starts hurting and suddenly falls off. It always does that, and I can't move for a bit from the pain.

While I'm stuck, the bark from the tree next to me suddenly explodes into a million tiny pieces and I cough in surprise.

"There's the zombie bastard! Shoot it, quick!"

I'm feeling something else now. It overpowers my need for food—I'm scared. And I run as fast as my worn legs can take me. Thankfully, the noisy ones can't find me, and the loud banging sounds cease.

I check to see if anything is missing: first my tongue, which grew back. It always does. I sigh as I fall to the cold ground. The tree's roots and…_moss_…make a decent floor. I close my eye, and the Dark swallows me whole.

* * *

><p>"Fuck, I'm bleeding! Does someone have a pack?"<p>

My eye opens sharply with the voice close by. Crouching down, I hear their steps through the fresh snow. The flakes crushed beneath their shoes sound like when I eat.

"Thanks, man that last stop was horrible! Didn't even have too many supplies," said someone.

"I know. My back hurts like hell," another one replies.

I take soft breaths so they don't see me. They keep going, and I can smell them as they creep right past me. They continue making lots of noise when the others get too close, but I know better. But something feels bad.

_The air is too cold. It hurts._

That voice again, is it me? But I feel it and it's right. That fire is building up again, and it races out with a shattering heave. It's like I'm going to hack my tongue out. Thankfully, I don't and I quickly hide down behind a blackened bush, the lack of leaves making little difference. The group ahead shouts that name again and start rushing farther away. Maybe they're afraid of me, too.

But I'm hungry.

I creep forward, poised for something to quench this tightness inside. The noisy ones are getting close to another large thing. It has a door, I remember, and windows. It's covered with this red stuff—like blood—and they rush inside with a slam of the door.

A little while later, I shuffle out of hiding to get close to this thing. I think it's called a building. As if I did it a hundred times before, I reach out with my hands and start climbing up the vertical brick and mortar. A few seconds later and I find myself on the plain roof. The treetops are still much higher, towering over me as I look up. But I do get a better view of what's ahead.

The noisy people are down below, walking down a path behind the building. I shoot my tongue out, hoping to catch my breakfast, but the people are too far away. I frown.

"What's takin' so long? I'm startin' ta freeze out 'ere!"

"Just hold your horses, son. I'm almost done."

The noisy ones are crowded around a thing with wheels. I try to get a closer look. It seems that the thing is shining, but only just. It's a dim glow that keeps blinking. It's giving me a headache just staring at it. I look away and accidentally cough.

"Did ya hear that? Sounds like a Smoker. I told you it's followin' us!"

I rush as far away from the group as possible, ignoring the sleek ice and snow near the flat path. I dash behind a tree, gasping for air. I never did like running.

"Shit! You just had to shoot THAT of all things!"

I leap back when the Noise gets too loud. But I'm the only one—the others hear it, too. Yet they all lurch at them over the thing making the booming sound. I'm far in the back.

_A car alarm_.

The…car, it sounds weird to me. It's flashing and suddenly stops after a few seconds, but the others continue their march against the noisy ones. They all fall down soon though. It seems they aren't too smart. At least the Noise has gone.

The group quickly leaves for what they call the Safe House, and I stay away. I'm hungry still and try not to whimper too loud. And that's when I finally notice it. This heavenly smell wafts through the winter air and greets me.

I feel the fire inside scream through me and I quickly reach out for that delicious smell. I come across another one of the others. He is different, too.

He's growling at me.

"What the hell do YOU want?" he screeches.

"I'm hungry," I say. "What's that smell?"

"Huh? It's _my_ dinner. Get lost." The other gets back to his meal and I sigh, tired of the mean one.

* * *

><p>I'm getting cold again, and my breath billows out in a great, white cloud as I walk. Circling around the Safe House, I see something glinting in the light. I approach the shimmer and I see a thing. It's a small building, I think. The wood is dry and cracked, but it's hard to break apart. I step back squinting my eye at the sparkle.<p>

It's round and fixed to the door tight, no matter how much I pull it. I try using my tongue, but it's too small and suddenly, I get stuck! I wrench hard, but the cold thing bites at my tongue and it hurts. It hurts so much. I yank back a final time and my wounded tongue follows.

I snarl at the small foe, it glitters back smugly. I lash out and attack the thing for what seems like the rest of the morning. I end up tiring myself out, again.

After coughing myself into sitting down in the snow, I leer at the shiny thing. What is it?

_Door…_

I know that it's on a door. It shines like fresh blood, but it cuts like the noisy one's sharp thing last night. My tongue doesn't fall off, but I'm seriously getting tired of it.

_Doorknob, a doorknob._

Something flickers in my mind and I feel less angry. Twisting my tongue in concentration, I carefully approach the shiny thing called a doorknob. I reach out to touch it again, but this time, with my hand.

It's still cold, but it doesn't bite my worn fingers. I sigh in relief. Then, following what I faintly recall, I tighten my hand. Nothing happens.

"What?" I say aloud, confused.

I let go, curling up against the cold wind that picks up. Some of the snow falls from the graying sky above. Fixing my eye back onto the doorknob, I try again. Something is supposed to happen, I just know. This time, I try to pull it closer to me, and it holds steadfast. Then I push with the same result: nothing.

I scream out with a deafening cough and slam my fist into it.

"OUCH!" I wail. It hurts so, so much.

Clutching my injured hand, I coil back. All shiny things are evil. I must stay far away.

_No, no. Again. I can just turn it._

Turn it? My curiosity is piqued once more, and I venture another meeting with the evil doorknob. This time, I do as that voice says and the thing moves!

I smile and continue turning until it stops again. I let go and it snaps back in place. What a strange shiny thing. Then I remember something else. The noisy ones did the same thing before! I can copy them, I think.

For the final time, I turn the doorknob, the cold tickling my hand. Then, I push. And it opens.

I gasp at the whole door. It opens just for me! I'm so...so…_happy_. Yes, happy. I walk into the smaller room, away from the snow and cold and vicious winds. The inside is darker, but definitely less cold.

Once I'm inside, I notice some light pouring through the cracked window. It let's me see everything inside the small building. And what I see pleases me. It's full of good smells. It's not exactly like before with the mean one and it definitely doesn't smell like the noisy ones. But it makes my insides burn with hunger and I rush at whatever smells good.

The thing won't obey me like the door. So I kill and break it into a million pieces on the ground, feasting on the insides. I laugh with glee. I can eat again! The other things don't move. They must be too scared of me.

But as I eat, my head starts to hurt. The thing isn't dead, I think. I just opened it.

_It's a wooden crate. It was unlocked._

Oh, a crate. I'm glad I understand now, and I cough in agreement. But suddenly, I hear a low growl and I turn to see the mean one again. I narrow my eye. What does he want? He must want to take my food!

"Go away! This is mine," I yell, but I end up coughing.

"Hmph, why should I? I just happened to see…what is that?" he sneers in disgust.

I just now notice I'm covered in this dark red thing. I think it's a part of the insides I ate.

"I don't know. But it tastes good. Much better than that other thing you were eating before," I say. The mean one clamors in anger. Clearly I am winning. What I'm winning at, I sure don't know. But I'm winning, and that's all that matters.

But my smirk leaves me when he gets closer. He sniffs the air and crouches down. I realize too late as he pounces and slams me into the back of the room, the crates tumbling down into a pile.

"Give me some. Now!" I hold back a gaging cough; his breath smells terrible.

"It's over there in the crates!"

"What the hell is a crate?"

"Those square things over there," I point out. "Now, get off me."

Annoyed, he gives a throaty growl, but complies after shoving me once more into the wall. After sliding down, I watch as the mean one creeps towards the crates apprehensively. He sniffs the air, clearly drawn towards the food inside.

He crouches down like before and stamps down, crashing into the wooden containers. He quickly gnaws and swipes at the boxes to no avail.

"Ugh, how do I eat it? Show me," the mean one says, throwing me a crate.

"Fine," I say. "Just open it here."

I open the latch just like the last one, and the foodstuffs come rolling out. Now that I'm full, I look closer at the strange food. It doesn't bleed when I bite into it, and it doesn't scream either. It's weird.

"About time," he mutters and tears into it.

He must have been very hungry. Yet, I definitely remember him eating before. What a selfish bitch. I heard one of the noisy ones say this a lot, so I'll just borrow it.

"Get me more."

"Why should I?"

The next moment later and I'm pinned against the wall, again. I sigh, coughing quietly, and push him away to open another crate for him. Definitely a bitch.

This continues for two more crates, and by that time, he's too tired to chase after me when I run away. After a minute of semi-sprinting, I start to heave and I sit to rest. My legs hurt, but at least I'm far away from the mean one. I sigh in relief and make sure to backtrack so I don't lose sight of the Safe House. The noisy ones smell too good.

* * *

><p>I spend the rest of the day searching out better hiding spots. Along the way, I notice some extra-stealthy holes and notches—even a fallen tree to top it all off! Afterwards, I walk back to the Safe House. The noisy ones always said the strangest things.<p>

"…did you get baking soda into MY gun?" growled someone.

"I dunno. I was jus' riflin' through the cupboards and found some of this 'ere powder. I didn' think nothin' wrong with it, so I jus' thought about leavin' it alone. But then your gun was all crusted and shit, so I—accordin' ta my resources—used the stuff ta clean it out good!"

I'm startled by this loud crashing sound that came from inside, and I try to peek though the open window. One of them is trying to run away, laughing a bit. I smile at them. They're so funny.

Now, on a normal basis, I would try to reel in one of them for a little bite. But since I'm full, I just don't feel like it. At least I get to watch them run around a little.

* * *

><p>The sun starts to set, and the air gets a lot colder. It's so cold, I don't think I can stay outside this time. So, I head towards that building farther down, hoping that that bitch wasn't still hiding there. When I reenter my little Safe House, I close the door, bathing the room in darkness. At least I can still smell my way around. Apparently, the mean one had taken some of the crates away, leaving me with a few left.<p>

"Bitch."

"What was that? Who're YOU calling a bitch?"

A sharp pair of claws quickly grab my shirt and I'm thrown across the darkened room. Aching all over, I fall into a fit of coughing, trying to desperately find something to grab onto so I can stand back up. My side hurts now.

"I knew you'd be back. After you left, I tried to open the rest, but they won't budge. Fix it now," he says.

"Why can't you just leave me alone? Aren't you full?"

He grabs me again and hauls me up. I think I'm scared because I can't move. His glinted eyes drill into my single quivering one. He smiles.

"Those'd be the appetizers. If you don't get them open, I'll just tear _you_ apart."

"Wh-why would you do that?"

He doesn't answer me, and just sends me off to open up the rest. When I try to pry them open, they all stay shut. The bitch starts at me again, but I hold him off, saying it'll be just a little while longer. Of course, I'm beginning to worry. It just stays shut. Maybe I'm just doing it wrong.

_It's not the same kind of crate._

It isn't? Checking the other boxes that had food, I noticed that they were slightly larger. The crates that didn't open are definitely smaller. I tell this to him.

I expected to get tousled again, or maybe worse, but he doesn't even yell. The mean one just stalks off deeper into the small building leaving me alone in the nightly dark. I didn't know what to expect, but at least I was okay now.

I stifle a slight cough and find my own corner to hole myself up in. The wintry winds can't reach me and the snow is kept out. I won't freeze tonight, but I just can't stop thinking about what'll happen tomorrow. The bitch probably won't leave me alone now even if I tried to run away again. He'd catch me for sure.

"What's your name?"

I open my eye and sit up straighter when I heard his words.

"I can't remember mine. What's yours?"

"Jack. Call me Jack."

"Okay," I say. I test the name out. "Jack."

It's a lot better than bitch, but I won't tell him that. Besides this, I can't find anything else to say. The silence is a little unwelcoming and I turn away. In a moment, the Dark takes me again. So I fall asleep, dreaming of good smells, doorknobs and the other one named Jack.

Yeah, it's a nice name.


	2. Blankets

Through the progression of this story, both the Smoker and Hunter will develop discretion and diction through further interactions. I'll try to flesh out both the Infected as well as the unnamed Survivors. If you haven't figured out who the Survivors are, I'm sure the hints here will make it blatant enough.

Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead, its characters, and its concepts.

Warnings: Language, violence, gore, homosexuality.

* * *

><p><em>Human Inventions of Varying Usefulness<em>

Chapter 2 "Blankets"

"You're an absolute IDOIT, y'know that?"

"I…I didn't think that-"

"I'll just call you Idiot since _you_ can't seem to remember your own name."

"I said I'm sorry!"

"Shut up, Idiot. They're getting too far away."

Jack growls menacingly and leaps away with a fitful screech. I give a soft cough, my shoulders sagging in overall dejection. It wasn't _my_ fault the noisy ones planned to search out my Safe House.

In hindsight, I should have warned Jack. I mean, they always snoop around everything anyway—they were probably eyeing my building for _my_ delicious food, too! Thieves, the lot of them.

I huff out as I try to catch up to the bounding Jack far ahead of me. When I think about it, I'm really lucky. If he wasn't with me in the morning, I could have never woken up in time. I don't think I can remember everything that happened—it was so fast I barely had enough time to cough. I never expected Jack to be so quick on his feet.

* * *

><p>The wall is so warm. And fuzzy. Why is the wall so fuzzy?<p>

"So ya see, all the little girl needs is some TLC and she's ready ta roll. Cars are very delicate pieces of fine machinery, y'know."

Who's there? Is it food? Because I'm getting hungry, again. Oops, I should get up soon. I don't want to have to get lost finding the noisy ones. It's hard enough as it is. No, not hard…so fuzzy, and it purrs!

"If I ever have the need to get my Porsche fixed, I know who to call. Oh, wait. I don't HAVE one anymore because we're going through a fucking zombie apocalypse! Heck, there aren't even any decent roads to use anymore, even if we FIND a damn car!"

Too loud. Much too loud. Shut up and let me sleep with the wall. I'm getting a headache.

"…You have anger management issues, man."

Whatever those are, I'm sure he does. Wait, no…my wall is moving. Come back, wall! You're the best wall I've ever slept on!

"Don't make me shoot you. Go check out that shack over there. Maybe there's something worth our time."

I cough in mild irritation. Where's my wall? It was so nice and warm. And it's growling. Walls aren't supposed to growl, are they?

_Wake up. Quickly, now._

Several things are moving all at once when I slip my eye open. The door is being pounded open, Jack is leaning back into a pounce, and the room is turned upside down. I lift my head to right myself and cough furiously, but not loud enough to be heard over the cracking door. Poor door.

On that note, I see that I'm on top of Jack. He's pretty strong to be able to carry me on his back. I guess I'm not all that heavy.

Before the door gets smashed, Jack suddenly vibrates with a deep guttural screech and we fly through the small room to the one and only exit. The door is pushed out and falls to the huge snow pile just outside. I hear someone cry out in surprise, but the voice is too tiny and the door too big.

I will surely miss that door; it was so nice to me. But that evil door knob can just stay there under the snow for all I care. It sucks.

"Hunter! Shit, get back here!" an angry voice shouts.

Then suddenly, we bound off into the still dark forest, the sun barely peeking over the Safe House. The air is so cold and it feels like it's pinching me everywhere. The loud noises start up and we take cover behind a fallen tree. I cough for a while, but Jack keeps me quiet with his hand.

When I stop, we can barely hear the noisy ones talk.

"Oh my God. That…was…awesome! Did'ja see all tha'? The Smoker was ridin' tha' other Hunter like somethin' outta a cowboy movie! I tell ya! Didn' even see the fella when the door fell on me! Ha!"

"I can't believe I wasted a round of _my_ bullets on you. You're compensating when we get back."

"Aw, don't be like that! You were surprised just as much as I was. Man, I gotta tell the others, it'll be a hoot!"

"Speak one word of this and…"

Darn, I can't hear anything else. I guess the noisy ones are too far away now. Whew, at least everything is back to normal. Oh, no wait. Jack is mad. He's giving me this _look_.

He's opening and closing his mouth. I think he wants to talk, but maybe he forgot?

_Danger…you were both in danger._

Oh, that's not good. I need to apologize.

"Jack, are you okay? Because I'm sor-"

"DON'T finish that sentence if you know what's good for you. Do you realize what just the fuck happened? Of course you don't," he says. He peels off back towards the Safe House.

"Don't follow me, y'hear?"

I stumble towards his fleeting figure, but he's long gone. I'm all by myself. Sighing, I sit down under a nearby tree. The snow is so white it hurts to look at it. But then I hear a small rustling across from me. It's a rabbit.

Food. Get. Eat. Now.

I hope there isn't too much red stuff—_blood_—right, blood on me. I don't want to get too sticky. And just like that, Jack bursts through the trees to me and throws two crates at my head.

They both miss and land a ways off. When I turn back around to meet Jack, I get my face punched.

"Ouch! Why'd you do that?" I whimper in pain.

"Because you're pathetic," he says. "Now hurry up and open them up so I can eat. Wait…did you already…"

His eyes are blazing with something I can't quite understand. Is he still mad at me? Maybe if I apologize again.

"Can I…" I should just open the crates already.

Wordlessly, I walk over to the fallen boxes. I can feel his gaze on me as I pick them both up and give Jack the food inside. Since I'm not hungry, I don't feel too bad about sharing my food with him.

* * *

><p>"They won't leave," Jack states.<p>

So far, the noisy ones haven't left their Safe House yet and the sun is already starting to turn red against the treetops. I hope they're not hiding. Because then I'll need to find another warm place to sleep. Where did that wall go?

"What should we do?" I ask. My eye is still locked on the silent house ahead.

"_You_ are going to go check things out. _I_ am going to stay right here."

"But I can't run as fast as you can. Even the others can move faster."

"That's not my problem," he says gruffly. "Go check out the place for some more food. I'm getting hungry."

I cough a little while as I leave. The night air isn't too good for my lungs, I think. My footfalls are very loud as I try to sneak over to my Safe House across the way. Every few steps I stop and listen for the noisy ones, hoping that they don't see me. I'm so relieved I get to the building that I let out a string of coughs.

Before I walk in, I mourn the loss of my door. The snow has already found its way inside, and the room is caked in ice. A rather nasty wheeze takes hold of me, and I stumble over a few misplaced crates and bounce against a wall near the end. The wood creaks suddenly and I look down at my feet.

There is a small hole there and I get curious. What is it?

_A door on the floor._

What a strange thing. Why would there be a door down there? I stretch out my hand and carefully prod the 'door on the floor.' It makes a noise at my touch.

There are no deadly door knobs here, but the hole demands further investigation. I crouch down and poke it. Nothing happens. I crane my neck so I can get a closer look at the thing. Slowly, I grab the inside and push and pull it; then, the door opens.

I think I love doors. They always do as I command. I shall be their king!

Shaking my head from this thought, I concentrate on keeping the floor-door open. At first, it looks like a bunch of stones, but they're soft to the touch.

"What is this?" I ask myself.

Pulling one out, I notice just how very, very soft it is. It's almost like the wall from last night. Coughing to myself, I lift it higher, and it suddenly falls apart. I worry, thinking it's broken, but it's not. The thing is bigger now and a whole lot thinner. I sniff it and it doesn't do anything, only fluttering in my hands like a baby bird. I hold it close, and it warms me up.

Delighted, I take out more of the soft stones and try to keep them from blooming, too. I look around for a little while but find nothing of any interest. These are amazing rocks, but I really don't think they're called rocks.

_Blankets. They're called blankets. Warm and soft._

"Blankets? That sounds nice."

I walk away from my doomed Safe House. Without the mighty door, all the snow is going to ruin everything inside. What a waste.

"Jack? Are you there?" I shout as loudly as I can, but that just makes me cough in the end.

"Jack? I found some blankets! You can have one if you want!"

No one answers and I'm scared that the noisy ones have taken him. I rush out deeper into the darkened forest and I can't see anything. But soon enough, I hear the booming noises again. If the noises are loud, I know I'm close by.

"Jack," I whisper, afraid that the others will find me and…_kill me_.

"Kill…when the blood comes out. When that happens, I get killed? No. No, Jack! Are you alright?"

I'm screaming now. I don't want Jack to be killed. I'm so afraid that I run right into him without my notice. I fall to the ground with a surprised cough.

"Quiet you! Do you _want_ to get minced?"

"Jack, you're not killed! You're safe!"

"No thanks to you! What took you so long? It wasn't until after you left that I saw the Survivors leave through the back of the house!"

"Survivors? The noisy ones?"

"Yeah, yeah. Now stay low and follow me. Apparently, the next damned house is just over that hill."

* * *

><p>It wasn't long until we had that argument. And now I'm way in the back, trying to catch up. He didn't talk about the blankets I have in my arms. Even if he saw them, he didn't bring it up. Damn, it's hard carrying these blankets. They get so heavy after a while…maybe they really are made of rocks.<p>

"Really fuzzy rocks," I say aloud. I've been doing that for a while now, talking to myself.

I guess it's because I haven't talked to anyone else for a while. Jack's not very good at making conversations, but at least he talks. It's nice—hearing him talk to me. It helps me remember I'm not alone.

Lifting my head and the heavy blankets, I spy the Safe House close by. The loud noises stop after a few minutes, so the others…Survivors are in the building. I give a small grin, with my tongue in the way it doesn't really matter, and I quicken my pace until I reach Jack under a group of trees.

"Hey, Jack," I start. My breathing is heavy after running uphill. "Are they gone?"

"Yeah. The bitches nearly shot me in the leg, but one of the Commons got 'em back for me."

"What do you mean?"

"Just a small horde, didn't cause too much damage, but sure did something. They won't be moving for a little while."

"Oh," I reply. My body is too tired to think of anything else to say, so I just drop down to the hard, rocky ground.

"You're just gonna sleep here?" he asks. "It's too cold, even for me. There's another building behind the House, and it looks pretty decent. Come on."

I look up and Jack is already creeping along the side of the house, perfectly silent. I wish I could be as sneaky as him. I'm still so loud in the middle of all this hush. My coughs ring through the darkening night even when I try to cover my mouth. It's so frustrating, but Jack doesn't say anything about it. So I just follow him to what looks like a barn.

The straw and hay are all itchy and hard from the winter. I try to tame it as best as I can, but it's hopeless. I look to my side and see Jack making due just fine. He doesn't look upset and just curls up on his side, just like that. I almost forget about the blankets. They'll make this loads easier.

"Jack," I start. "I did find something when I was in the small house before."

I wait for his response as he carries himself up from his little roost. He looks at me, then down at the blankets in my dirty hands.

"What are those things?"

"Blankets. They keep you warm and they're so soft, too. Take one."

He grabs the one closest to him and wrestles with it while it's still bundled up. I giggle and help him unfold the strange fuzzy rock. After it's as big as it'll get, I hand it back and he gives an appreciative grunt.

"Thanks. Now go to sleep. I don't want to wake up to a Survivor banging down the door again."

I don't think he's angry anymore; at least he doesn't hit me. I smile and put down my blanket on the hay and it's definitely more comfortable. I sigh in relief and barely cough with the cold, night air. Looking out, I barely make out the white snow falling through the moonlight. It's beautiful.

* * *

><p>I wake up to a dark room. I hear Jack beside me, he's crawling around, pacing. I try not to make any noise, but I guess he sees me move or something because he calls my bluff.<p>

"What are you doing up?" I ask Jack.

"I don't really feel all that tired," he says. "Just stretching my legs and stuff. Go back to sleep, Idiot."

"My name isn't Idiot!" I retort.

"Well, give me something to work with here. Or else, I'll just keep calling you that."

"I…I don't know. I can't think right now. It's too early."

I'm perfectly awake though; I'm lying past my tongue. My coughing fills the room and then there is silence. I try to avoid talking now, but Jack keeps going.

"Danny."

"What?"

"Will. Zach. Anthony. Darwin. Anything familiar?"

_What is my name? What is it?_

"I…no, none of those."

I don't know why he keeps talking. But this goes on through the night, and then we hear the Survivors make some noise again. I'm just about to get ready to call it quits, I think Jack's getting tired, too. We didn't make much progress. Honestly, I think he was re-using the same names over and over again. But it was still nice.

"Oh, sweetie. Are you okay? After the horde, you got the brunt of it and hit your head against a tree."

"M'fine. How 'bout you guys? Anythin' wrong?"

"Naw, we're doin' fine. You should go back to sleep."

"Y'sure? I can help keep watch t'night."

"Stay. In. Bed. I'll take the watch. I just don't want to hear you complain in the morning on how little God-awful sleep you had. You got me?"

"Heh heh. I got you. G'night y'all."

I guess the Survivors didn't go to sleep yet. I'm surprised. Why didn't they just sleep like we did?

Still thinking, I barely catch myself when I notice just how creepy Jack's stare is. When I meet his gaze, he breaks it and goes back to sleep without a word.

"Jack," I speak up. "Thanks for trying to think of a new name for me. But it's okay. I'm sure I'll figure out just what my name is some day."

He doesn't say anything, so maybe he's already asleep. I lay back down onto the bedding and work over these darn questions in my head. They won't go away, either.

_What's my name? What's my name?_

My coughing fills the room, and my eye slowly droops down in sleepiness. I guess it really is late. Maybe the Survivors are right about something. I think I'd be too stubborn to go to sleep if someone else was still awake. I'm not alone anymore.

* * *

><p>The bright sun is breaking through the open window and the snow is glistening across the sill. I hum in agreement to the warmth around me. It's soft and protects me from the nasty bright light. I feel like I'm brimming with energy and try to escape the blankets, but they're tightly wound around me. It's almost like the fuzzy wall from before.<p>

It was a nice wall, and didn't keep me so still.

A growl disrupts my actions. The warmth gets hotter and tighter and I look down to see arms holding my down. Confused, I try and turn around to get a better view. Apparently Jack had joined me because his blanket was too small. I would have given him another one, but I guess he was too tired to care.

"Let's get to it people! Time waits for no man."

Oh, the Survivors are awake. We'd better hurry to catch up to them. I'm getting hungry again.

"Ahem?"

"…Or woman."

"That's better. Hey, sweetie. Are you doing alright?"

"Yup. Never better! Thanks again for the pack. Much obliged."

The voices are getting softer and farther away. We really should get going, but Jack just won't let go. He must have stayed up too long.

Silly Jack, I'm not a blanket.


	3. Flashlights

Prepare yourselves for more Keith stories and lots of Smoker humor. If you haven't noticed yet, the Survivors are from Left 4 Dead 2 and the setting is up north (during the ends of winter) instead. Also, the characters' speech patterns tend to switch when they get agitated, excited, or nervous. This rule mainly applies to Ellis and his lovely anecdotes. Oh, and there's a small hint to just what the next "invention" will be for the next chapter. Try guess!

Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead, its characters, and its concepts.

Warnings: Language, violence, gore, homosexuality.

* * *

><p><em>Human Inventions of Varying Usefulness<em>

Chapter 3 "Flashlights"

I swish and creep beneath a darkened forest, my eye glints in the early morning rays. The trees drape over me, keeping me hidden from their sight.

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

I smirk at their bickering. They cannot comprehend their impending doom. My eye darts left and right—even though I can't see anything, it's still cool—and I steady myself. Poised, I prepare to strike like how an eagle looms over its feeble, _defenseless_ prey.

"Are we there yet?"

"NO!"

Now, which one will it be? The large one and the girl are in front, so it'll have to be either the small one or mean one. So many choices.

"How 'bout-"

"How about YOU stop talking or I'll personally _feed_ _you_ to that bastard following us!"

…They know I'm behind them? I know I'm not as good at being sneaky as Jack, but-

"Ah, c'mon. It's not like there's anythin' else ta do. Let me have some fun for once!"

"This is not fun. Fun is when we get out of this hell. So shut your trap and let's try play a little game called 'Shut the fuck up or I'll pump you full of lead.' Okay?"

I cough loudly. Damn it, I promised Jack that I'd be able to handle them for a day.

"Goddamn Smoker! You're doing it on purpose, aren't cha?" screams the loud one. He fires off his weapon and I quickly duck and take cover behind a thick tree. Mission failed.

"Stop it! It's not like Mocha's doin' anythin' wrong!"

The loud noises stop suddenly. I peek around the battered bark and stare at the Survivors.

"…You named it?"

I have a name?

"Yeah. I'm guessin' it's the same Smoker from before that knocked me over a shed door. I thought it'd be fittin' ta name him that."

Mocha?

"I'm probably going to regret this…but _why_ did you name it Mocha?" The Survivor shivers as if a cold wind came over him.

"Oh! Tha's 'cause this one time, me an' my buddy Keith both went hitchhikin' ta the nearest outlet mall. It was the best. Anyway, Keith an' me went an' ordered the first thing we saw. Wasn't nothin' expensive or anythin', we couldn't afford too much. So we went an' ordered a coffee from this 'ere Starbucks. Ya heard of those things before, right?"

"Go on, Ellis, sweetie. Let's just keep walking."

"Alright. So as I was sayin', we were first-timers there so we let the nice lady in front choose for us. We paid for it, an' went down ta share it—in _two_ cups, mind you. I thought it was too bitter ta be any good, but Keith downed the entire cup in less than a minute. Then he started chokin' and shit, an' I thought it went down the wrong pipe. Anyway, long story short, Keith was taken ta the hospital an' the shop got sued or somethin' for negligence an' poor hygiene. The place looked clean enough ta me, though."

The other three Survivors sigh deeply. I'm not sure about them, but that was a very interesting story. I'd love to hear more from…Ellis was it? I don't know what this Keith is though. Is he a pet?

"Chil', your Keith stories are great time-killers. Look guys, we've gone and reached a town!" says the large Survivor.

"About time," says the mean one. "Let's hurry up and find that Safe House already."

* * *

><p>"So, did you screw up yet?" asks Jack.<p>

"Well," I say. "Not exactly. I didn't get shot or anything."

"You blew your cover, didn't you?"

"…Yeah-"

"I _knew_ it," exclaims Jack, his arms flailing. "Just eat your food. Do you know how hard it is to catch something around here nowadays?"

_Food is food. Eat it and thank him._

"It's good. Thanks, Jack."

"This is just payback for last time. C'mon, we'd better get moving."

We finish off the meaty carcass of whatever Jack had caught. He also thought up the idea of hiding the blankets for ourselves so we don't misplace them. I set them under some beds in the next room. Then we make our way towards the Safe House a few blocks away. It's always important to keep tabs on the Survivors. If you let them out of your sight for a _minute_, you just might lose them.

After eating, I take notice that I tend to stop coughing for a bit. I suppose not everything can be fixed with food, but I'm really happy for the silence. Plus, it's easier to talk without the raw feeling in my throat. It's nice.

"Hey Jack, what do you do when you're not hunting for food?" I ask.

"Dunno," says Jack. "That's all I ever do."

"Nothing else?"

There a few wandering Commons to the right of us. They see us walking through and part ways. I think they're a little smart. Mostly dumb but I'm sure they have some sense in them.

"Well, I guess whenever I'm bored and _not_ hungry, I go off to…amuse myself." Jack smiles.

"Amuse? To have fun?"

"Yeah, fun. Like mess around with the Commons. Sometimes, I go off to spook a horde or just tear into one of them. They're like cows, almost."

…That's sounds boring. Is it really that fun?

We're about a block away now, the house with the red door in sight. I turn to face Jack while we scale the side of it, staying away from the windows, so the Survivors don't see us. Once we reach the top, I sit down on the ledge and start practicing my aim. I've been rather rusty since I met Jack.

What do I do for fun?

"Hey, Jack. Do you know how to open a door?"

* * *

><p>"This is stupid. This is so, so stupid."<p>

"No, it's not! It's important that we can _both_ open doors so things can be safer."

Jack's been having trouble turning the evil doorknob. I eye it warily, the cold metal glinting something fierce. At least there's not a whole lot of snow around. I don't want it biting my tongue again.

Jack is less gentle.

"Argh!" screams Jack, his claws scraping against the obstruction.

For our own safety, I think it's for the best that we stay out of the hearing distance of the Survivors. I don't know what they might do if they see us.

"I hear a Hunter!" Apparently, we aren't far away enough.

Jack stops his conquest of the door, and we make our way out of the deserted house. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Survivors making their way to our house. They've been taking turns patrolling the surrounding neighborhood since they got to the Safe House so early. Well, it's the afternoon, so maybe they're just tired.

"Oh, damn. I bet it's that Hunter from before! I was wonderin' where he went off to!"

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you're _happy_ about this. Need I remind you, you nearly got flattened by it under a shed door."

It's _those_ two guys again. I motion Jack to get up to the roof so we can watch them talk. I hope my coughing doesn't give us away…again.

"Oh, shucks. Tha's nothin'. You should've seen me an' Keith when we were younger. See, we lived near this 'ere cattle ranch close ta our homes. The place was a dump! The roads weren't paved an' the fences might've as well been knocked down. Heck, a pile of logs would've been better.

"Anyway, it was nighttime an' Keith said he was tryin' ta learn how ta ride a proper horse. Since there weren't none around, he just moseyed over an' found the first bull he could find."

"Am I to venture that he ended up—oh, I don't know—breaking _every_ bone in his body, or maybe starting a stampede?"

"Nah, he ended up ridin' the fella right into the owner's kitchen. Dish soap an' cattle manure in the _worst_ places! Man, oh man…that was a hoot."

This Keith must be the greatest beast in the world. And if this Ellis is his owner, then I mustn't let myself be drawn into thinking him weak. He must be the true leader of the Survivors. A worthy adversary indeed.

The mean one must then be his sidekick. It's only natural if they're together all the time. Wait, so does that make me Jack's? I'll ask him later.

"I swear these stories are getting more outrageous by the day. Are you sure you weren't fed paint chips when you were a kid?"

"Scout's honor!" says the leader, his hands making a sign on his head. "I ain't makin' anythin' up, Nick. Honest!"

Jack hits me in the shoulder—we've developed a form of communication early one—and I know that he's getting bored. I follow him around back to the edge and he whispers to me, his growling turns to a slight purr.

"Do you think the Survivors have anything good in their Safe House to eat?"

"Yeah," I reply. "They need to eat, too. I think they keep them somewhere in the back."

"Okay, I think I have a plan. I'm hungry and from the sounds your stomach's making, I know you are, too." I blush slightly in embarrassment.

"What is it?" I ask.

"_I'm_ going to go get it while _you_ distract the Survivors." I stare at him.

"WHAT? What makes you think this is going to work?"

"I'll just learn how to open the door and grab everything. You can just play around with the group, they like you."

It was true that the Survivors didn't shoot me, but according to the mean one…_Nick_…Nick, it was because they didn't want to waste their bullets on me.

"I really don't think this is going to work out."

"C'mon, it'll be fine."

"But-"

"Drop it. I'm going to learn how to open a damn door and _I'm_ going to get us some box food for once!"

* * *

><p>The sun is about to set and the sky is awash with golden oranges and bright pinks. I take a small break from trying to teach the simple act of opening a door to Jack and let myself relax. There's a cool wind and it brushes across my face. It feels nice and it doesn't sting my throat when I breathe deeply. In fact, coughing in general has gone down for a while. I hope it stays this way.<p>

I go back to greet a fuming Jack, the door and its stupid knob scratched up badly. I ask him again if he wants to stop, if we should switch places. He doesn't talk to me.

"I need to get some air."

He stomps out of the house and few seconds later, I see him leaping off into the growing darkness. I hope he gets better.

Jack hasn't been able to grasp the idea, no pun intended, for such a long time. But I don't know why—it wasn't _that_ hard for me. Maybe I'm just special, I haven't really seen any of the others do it either. Well if it comes down to it, since I'm the only one who can do it, I'm the only one who can teach Jack!

Grinning the best I can, I walk out after my companion. I can smell him through the evening air, his jacket and morning breath mixed starkly against the crumbling rubble and crisp, dried grass.

"Jack," I call. "Let me help you. It's not like I want to make you mad, but I can help. I know I can!"

He doesn't respond.

"Jack! Please answer me!"

"Go away. I'm useless."

I stop. Useless? Him?

"What are you talking about?" I shout, not caring if my coughing alerts the Survivors. "Just how are you useless?"

"Sure I can hunt and shit, but this is supposed to be easy! I know it is! But I can't do it. I can see myself opening that goddamn door, but my body doesn't listen, it just bumps and slashes it. Fuck!"

Jack screeches out and bounds up onto me, my back falls into a small area of grass. I cough softly from the cushioned impact and stare up to his glinting eyes.

"Jack, you're not useless. You're amazing."

"Just what makes you think that?"

His grip tightens around my shirt. I can hear him gnash his fangs and I hurt from watching him now.

"Because you protect me," I say, gulping down my fear. "You think about me and make sure that I don't get into any trouble. Sometimes, you give me some of your food, too!"

Jack's grip loosens and I use that chance to sit up.

"I know you're not useless. Please."

He doesn't look me in the eye now. Instead he sits on his haunches while a small growl escapes him. As for me, I'm torn. Should I keep talking to him? Should I stop? These questions buzz around in my head like stupid flies until I notice Jack lifting his head.

"We still need to get some food," Jack starts. "Do you…wanna help?"

My eye beams with unbridled joy and I clasp my hands in his.

"Of course I will!" I exclaim. "Of course I'll help you."

* * *

><p>"See? What I tell you, Nick?"<p>

"One more word, Ellis. One. More. Word."

I admit that this is far more dangerous than anything we've ever done before. The plan to separate the Survivors from the Safe House was going fine so far. I just hope that they stay away long enough for me to get some food. I won't let Jack down.

After opening the red door, I carefully close it so the metal doesn't screech out. The house is awfully dark, but some lanterns keep me from bumping into walls and counters. The wooden floors squeak under my clumsy, weighted walk and I make my way to the back of the room.

Inside I find these strange circle metals. I can hear water inside, so maybe there's food. I take as much as I can carry without dropping them all and turn my head searching for more treasures.

"Whoa," I say, intrigued. "What's this?"

I stumble upon a stack of black sticks. The same ones mighty Ellis and his group uses. They make clicking sounds and light comes out. Smiling, I reach out to grab one.

How do they make it click?

Confused, I sit down and play with it—turning it on its side, this way and that. I cough with a roll of irritation when the black stick refuses to obey me…like so many other shiny things. Stupid shiny things.

_Flashlights. Bright and heavy, hold it in your hand._

A flashlight? This is new; I see that it isn't as shiny as the doorknob, so perhaps it's nicer. It certainly doesn't bite my tongue. Maybe if I am kind to it, it will listen to me.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you Flashlight," I say, hoping to coax out its light.

My finger glances over a small bump on the side. Investigate immediately! Just as I'm about to reach a breakthrough, a loud banging reaches my ears.

"Hey, open up! I lost the Survivors when I stole that fucker's white suit, but now they're gaining on me!"

I rush out to let him in. The Survivors with their _working_ flashlights continue on, thinking that the Hunter hadn't escaped into their Safe House. I check to see if he's okay, which he is.

While he's talking to me about the food, I fiddle with the strange nub on the side and suddenly, bright light floods my vision!

At first, we both freeze from the intensity of the searing gaze, but then my eye closes and Jack screams a fit.

"My EYES! FUCKER, they BURN LIKE SHIT!"

He claws for his hoodie to keep his sensitive eyes safe and I fumble with the switch. My eye hurts a little, almost like the flashlight was eating my eye! I don't want that to happen! I must have angered the flashlight.

"Hey, Jack. Are you okay?" He keeps rubbing his eyes, but nods his head.

"Okay, let's get out of-"

"You guys all heard that Hunter screech, am I right?"

"Yeah, it's definitely in there."

"What should we do?"

"Shoot it, duh."

Oh, no. We alerted the Survivors. What do we do? What do we do?

"Shit, what should we do? We can't just leave the food here."

_Use the flashlight as a distraction. Quick, before the Survivors get in_.

"Jack, I'll use the flashlight on _them_. I need you to carry the food I found and get out through the back."

"There isn't a back…there's a second floor. Maybe I can use a window or something."

I'm glad that he doesn't start fighting now. He knows just as well as I do what will happen if we don't do this right. He grabs the food and I take the cursed flashlight. Something nips me at the back of my mind.

_Ghost stories_.

Oh, I guess I can do that.

"I'll go in first, y'all. Watch my back." It's the leader Ellis. Of course, he'd go in first.

The rest follow through, but I hide in the dark. Only the glint in my eye giving me away. But before they can shoot, I click the vile flashlight on and my face shines out, thick shadows line my head.

"Oh Lord have _mercy_!"

"Shit, a ghost zombie-"

"What the fuck? That doesn't even make any sense!"

"Oh damn, looks just like Keith after this one time…!"

With their guards down, I race off after Jack the flashlight turned off in my hands. My heart is beating too fast for me to count as my legs rush me up the stairs two and three at a time. My coughing becomes louder and louder until I finally burst through the bedroom window and into the cold night air.

Jack meets me outside, he heaves out a sigh of relief. We rush off together, his arms still holding the food. I hear the others give chase after me, but they sound out of sorts. I don't think they're too happy. The loud shooting noises from their weapons fill the night, but stops soon after. We escape.

When we get back to our house, Jack has already set out the blankets and I carefully rest the flashlight on its side. After that, I open the…_cans_…cans, and this watery fruit is inside. It smells sweeter than anything I've ever seen before, and I quickly swallow the slick juices. I hum in contentment and I share some with Jack.

He growls with approval. This is way better than some rabbit. After our short meal, we go to sleep. There's a long day ahead of us.


End file.
